


The Tether That's Keeping You Together

by RainbowSprinkleDonuts



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowSprinkleDonuts/pseuds/RainbowSprinkleDonuts
Summary: Despite Veronica’s chronic denial, things had been slowly crumbling for quite some time. Betty had been crumbling. It’d been all Veronica could do to try and catch the bits and pieces as they fell, holding them in place to keep Betty together.This piece, however, she couldn’t put back.(Canon until after Episode 3, a different take on Season 1)





	The Tether That's Keeping You Together

**Author's Note:**

> For my girlfriend, who all but forced me to write this, and also was still willing to edit it after my oneshot turned into 10k words...
> 
> (Plain text is present day, italics are linear flashbacks)

i.

 

_“Can you come over?”_

 It had been 26 hours since the last time they’d talked.

Well, they hadn’t really talked. More like yelled. Veronica did the majority of the yelling, and she cringed at the recollection. In all fairness, they had spoken, more calmly, just the day before about how Betty wasn’t going to play Truman Capote anymore. What did she think she was going to accomplish, getting herself killed? She was going in practically blinded by her impassioned theories and all that corn-fed gumpshun that made her so goddamn stupidly stubborn, and so she’d promised Veronica she wouldn’t. 

It sounded naive, sure, but with Betty firing like a loose canon these days, her word was all Veronica had.

And she _promised_.

Hence why it took Veronica until the third ring to pick up when Betty’s emoji flanked name lit up her room at 2 a.m. She nearly let it go to voicemail out of spite, but there would be swarms of winged swine before the world saw the day when Veronica Lodge could resist Betty Cooper.

“Hello?”

There was only shuffling and what could have been a sniffle before Betty’s voice crackles through the speaker.

“R-Ronnie? Are you there?”

Veronica shot upright in her bed, pulling something in her neck.

“I’m here, Betty, what’s wrong?”

More shuffling, and staccato breathing laced with whimpers. Veronica's heart yo-yo’d between fear and pain at the sound.

“Bet-”

“Can you come over?” Betty asked, rushed and hushed.

Veronica was already tugging whatever shoes she could find onto her feet when she answered, “I’m on my way. Stay there.”

In record time, she reached the steps of Betty’s door. Gone was her petty desire to punish Betty for going back on her word, and instead inside of her a hurricane of panic raged. She was hardly delicate as she shoved the front door open and galloped up the stairs two at a time. This was Betty, and something was very wrong, and she needed her.

Veronica had no reason to pause at Betty’s bedroom door, ajar with an eerie pink glow from her bedside lamp, no doubt. And yet, she instinctively came to a halt right there and felt the first wave of dread wash over her from the tip of her nose to the end of her toes.

The Cooper house giving Veronica the creeps was not a new concept, but this was something altogether arresting.

Nevertheless, the reminder that Betty was in there had her reaching for the doorknob. She gently nudged the door open to reveal an empty room.

“Betty? It’s V, are you in he-”

Betty emerged around the corner of her closet, with glassy, wild eyes that pulled Veronica forward.

Betty was alive.

Betty was okay.

Betty was… covered in dark, sticky splatters of blood.

 

\---

 

_“Can you come over?”_

_“Veronica, I have to study.”_  

_“So do I, but I need help, Betty. I feel like I’m reading hieroglyphics.”_

_Veronica strained to hear the reluctant sigh through the phone before the waving of the white flag._

_“I’ll be there in ten.”_

_It was an old song and dance for the two, despite their friendship being only a month old. Veronica begged, and Betty acquiesced. Veronica pouted, and Betty caved. A touch childish, perhaps, but Veronica wasn’t above it. She could sit and lament how far she had fallen since her stoic days atop the Spence food chain, but she’d decided that this girl was worth falling for._

_Betty trailed behind Veronica through her apartment and assumed her typical lounging position on her stomach atop the unkept comforter. The easy familiarity of it all had Veronica’s heart swelling. So distracting was the sight of Betty right at home on her bed that she found herself stuck awkwardly at the edge of the room._

_“Are you going to study from over there? Because I’d rather not yell the questions across the room at you,” Betty teased her._

_Veronica smiled and shrugged off the moment. She slipped into her swagger as she padded over._

_“What can I say?” she sighed dramatically, shuffling until she was parallel with Betty. “You’re a vision, Elizabeth Cooper.”_  

_Betty did that thing with her nose and hid in her shoulder, like a physical rejection of the complement. It was futile, however, because the act itself was also unbearably cute, and now she was staring again. Her smirk faded into a fond smile._

_For a second, Betty seemed on the verge of saying something, but it died on her lips. Instead, she cleared her throat and directed her attention to the textbook splayed open in front of her._

_“So for derivatives, lets start by writing out as much of the definition of f prime of x that you know,” Betty ordered. She held out the pencil loosely for Veronica to take._

_“That’s the fraction thing, right?”_

_Betty nodded affirmatively, so Veronica sighed through her nose and began scribbling it out. She tried her best to ignore the curious eyes that she knew were watching her every move. If she ever really did intend to study, she now knew that Betty would have to be far away._

_Reaching a mental block, she looked up and asked, “Is it a plus or a minus between the f things?”_

_Oh, lord save her from the yearning look she caught Betty fixing her with. With less than a foot between them, Veronica had nowhere to hide. She hardly had a second to collect herself before Betty spoke._

_“Why do you say things like that?”_

_Breathy and wistful. Veronica swallowed thickly._

_“Because I don’t remember what it’s called?”_

_Betty grinned through a silent laugh and something swooped in Veronica’s stomach._

_“Not about the derivatives, what you said earlier. How you think I’m a… a vision?” she clarified. Even just the recounting of Veronica’s compliment came out strangled._

_“I say them because I mean them. You’re beautiful, Betty, and I know you don’t hear it enough for someone as gorgeous as you,” Veronica stated plainly. However, beneath her cool facade she was shaking like a leaf. She was probably one more word from developing a cold sweat._

_Betty accepted that explanation, though, without rebuttal. She began to pensively roll her pencil up and down the pages of the textbook. Veronica took it that whatever this conversation was, it was now over. So, she reluctantly returned to her unfinished formula. She never got her answer on whether it was a plus or a minus, so she’d have to work it out for her-_  

_“Did you mean it when you kissed me at tryouts?” Betty piped up._

_Okay, conversation not over._

_The tip of the pencil broke, creating a smear of charcoal on the page. Veronica didn’t dare look up at Betty, not after that question. She started with her hands instead. The pencil that Betty had been rolling seconds ago was clutched tightly in her fist, bearing the brunt of her nerves. Finally trailing up to her face, Veronica found Betty looking about as uncertain about the question as Veronica was about her answer. So, that was comforting at least._

_“I-I mean, did you do it for Cheryl, or… for you?” Betty stuttered._

_It was a simple question for which she had a simple answer, and yet you could pluck the tension between them like guitar strings._

_Carefully considering her options, Veronica replied, “Honestly? That was for Cheryl. I guess in a way it was for you because I wanted to help you get onto the squad, but I did it to try and impress the she-devil.”_

_Betty frowned for a fraction of a second until her erratic nodding chased it away. It was her turn to avoid Veronica’s gaze, eyes darting anywhere Veronica couldn’t catch them._  

_“Yeah, right. Just, um, making sure,” she mumbled. If Veronica wasn’t completely losing it, she could have sworn Betty was actually disappointed._

_That was unexpected._

_With her overly furrowed brow and set jaw, Betty was trying desperately to give off the appearance of having returned to her studying. A polite friend would drop the matter. A nice friend would let her believe that her avoidance tactic was successful and return to her own textbook._

_Veronica Lodge was neither of these things. She was an opportunist._

_In one fluid motion, with a temerity she thought she’d left in New York, she had both of Betty’s cheeks in her palms, pulling her from her faux-studying into a searing kiss. Fortunately, her assumption had been spot on as Betty melted into it. Her lips relaxed, soft and pliable between Veronica’s. She kept it brief, though. Wanting to both not overstep and to leave a little more to be desired._

_Veronica slowly drew back to survey the damage. Breathless, but otherwise content, Betty’s eyes fluttered open. Glassy and green, they begged the question._

_“That was for me,” Veronica answered._

_The corner of Betty’s mouth quirked upwards. It was slight, but they were so close that Betty couldn’t lose an eyelash without Veronica noticing. They sat in charged silence for what felt like ages as she waited for a merely blinking Betty to make the next move. Maybe she’d read this all wrong. Perhaps Betty didn’t feel the same, and now this was devastatingly and irreparably awkward._

_She decided to say something because someone had to say_ something.

_“It could be for you, too, if you-”_

_She’d barely finished the thought before Betty surged forward, kissing her hard and pulling her in. It was rougher, faster, and more desperate than before. Betty’s fingers threading through her hair, drinking in Veronica’s whimpers with her open mouth. Tugging Betty’s hair tie out, releasing lavender scented flaxen waves. Palms on Veronica’s shoulders pushing her onto her back. Betty’s tongue in her mouth, thighs astride Veronica’s hips._

_She lost track of what was whose and who was where and just surrendered to being enveloped into everything Betty. The only thing she knew for sure was that they were both going to fail this math test._

 

 

ii. 

 

“Oh, god,” Veronica uttered.

She slowly crossed the threshold into Betty’s room, hands raised as to not spook the girl who was eerily unfazed by the crimson splotches marring her skin. Betty fell into a frenetic ramble but Veronica’s ears buzzed with a distant ringing. Not a single thought was sticking beyond one. Was Betty okay? She was standing. Breathing. Talking, lots of talking. But, was Betty okay?

“Are you okay?” Veronica asked out loud, her voice far steadier than she thought it would be.

Betty paused whatever she had been going on about and melted into an appreciative smile. For a second, Veronica saw Betty, her Betty, in the hallway at school smiling at her after finding her present in her locker. Then a rogue drop of the blood dribbled down Betty’s jawline and their grotesque circumstances hit her square in the chest.

Eyes. Back up to Betty’s eyes. Clear. Wintery pine green.

“I’m fine, Ronnie, I promise,” she assured her. Betty took a step forward, casual but off putting. Veronica wanted to believe her, but the blood was everywhere and still wet and very much not fine.

“It’s not mine,” Betty read her mind.

The information took a few seconds to sink in. The blood was not hers. Betty wasn’t bleeding and she really was fine. The million and a half additional questions that sprouted would have to wait while she processed this with a slow nod.

“It’s not?” Veronica asked, small and meek like she’d originally expected herself to sound.

“Nope. I have a small scrape on my knee, I think, but all of this… not mine,” Betty said. She added a smile to allay Veronica’s fear, but it just made her nauseous. She must have gone sheet white because Betty was back to rambling, grasping at Veronica’s hands that she’d kept raised this whole time. Initially intended for Betty’s safety, but somewhere in the past 5 minutes, they became more for her own safety.

Her thoughts were beginning to take shape again. All of this blood, if it wasn’t Betty’s, had to have come from someone else. Who? Why? Where were they now? Were they...

Before she could even go there, fingers were threading through her own, drawing the stiffness out of them. Betty was calling her, bringing her attention back to her face.

“I didn’t do it, Veronica, I swear,” she uttered.

Veronica nodded. She believed her because right now she had to. It was the best possible truth out of all the scenarios she’d been entertaining and they had more urgent issues to attend to like…

“We need to clean you up. Come with me.”

 

\---

 

_“Oh god.”_

_She had promised she would be quiet, but Betty wedged a thigh between her own and she couldn’t contain herself. The friction was delicious, as was Betty’s smile against her lips. She was grateful for Betty’s hands on her hip and her waist so she could lean into it, back arching against the cold metal of the locker bay. Sure, a straggler Vixen could waltz into the locker room at any moment and spoil their fun, but Veronica was a sucker for the cheap thrill of it all._

_“Remind me to compliment Cheryl on her choice of practice uniforms for the squad,” Betty stated before dipping down to press wet kisses to Veronica’s neck._

_“You’re really bringing up Cheryl right now?” Veronica scolded her, curling her fingers around the back of Betty’s neck as she grazed a particularly sensitive spot. Puffs of breath hit her dewy skin from Betty’s laughter._

_“Gotta give credit where credit is due,” she insisted, with a teasing lilt to her voice that made Veronica’s heart beat double time. Her lips trailed up Veronica’s neck to the shell of her ear. Betty mumbled, “I really love these shorts on you.”_

_Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Veronica nearly buckled in Betty’s arms at the sensation. Betty snickered at the effect she smugly wielded, and smoothed a palm around Veronica’s polyester swathed ass._

_“Wh-what do you like about them?” Veronica stuttered, too flushed to be embarrassed._

_“How they show off your ass-etts,” Betty cooed, drawing out the punchline._

_Veronica tried to resist, she really did. Despite the air of superiority silver-spoonfed to her since birth, she was weak to the signature Cooper dorky charm. She was at least able to poke Betty’s ribs in giggling exasperation._

_“Your jokes need some serious work, B,” she teased her._

_Betty grabbed hold of Veronica’s wrists stop the poking and to pin them to the metal behind her. It was not lost on Veronica that they were now chest to chest, and Betty’s eyes were alight with a devilish glint. That was new._

_“I think you love my jokes,” Betty goaded her._

_“I think you don’t know me at all, then,” Veronica vollied._

_Indignance washed over Betty’s features and she bowed her head until their gazes were level. Veronica gulped, almost comically, as she wavered between being a little freaked out and being incredibly turned on. Betty’s raspy voice tipped her towards the latter._

_“I don’t know you?”_

_Veronica remained transfixed, drowning in those verdant fractals. Meanwhile, Betty made slow work of dragging her fingertips up Veronica’s thigh, leaving her skin white hot in their wake. She anchored her short nails in the curve of her ass upon reaching the top, and Veronica’s hips canted forward of their own accord._

_“Are you sure?”_  

_Still held captive by Betty’s leer, Veronica’s breath quickened as the other hand dipped under the hem of her shirt. Higher and higher, until it wedged itself between the elastic of her sports bra and her skin. At the swipe of Betty’s thumb over what she sought, Veronica whimpered and made a long arch out of her back and her neck._

_So, maybe Betty could play her like a fiddle. So what? Didn’t mean she was going to give her that satisfaction when she was smirking at her so irritatingly triumphant._

_Albeit breathy, the corner of her mouth quirked with her snotty reply, “Not everything.”_

_Like striking a match, the slight set Betty ablaze._

_“Shut up,” she growled, diving in to kiss her quiet. Her hands gripped and pulled at Veronica’s dips and curves. Veronica’s own arms hung around Betty’s neck just enough to keep her upright as Betty conquered the inside of her mouth. If she was bashful before, that was out the window. So drunk on her, all Veronica could do was moan against Betty’s insistent mouth and grind her hips down harder along that endless thigh._

_Who knows how far they would have gone in that locker room, lost in each other’s lungs, if Veronica hadn’t nipped at Betty’s bottom lip. Not that Betty objected, far from it. It was rather the tug, the harsh tug that she gave to a fistful of Veronica’s hair, that halted their tryst._

_Veronica hissed, and Betty jumped back. She mumbled a stream of apologies as she gingerly smoothed the back of Veronica’s head with one hand, and clenched a tight fist with the other._

_“I’m so sorry, Ronnie, so, so sorry. Shit, are you okay?” Betty cried, glassy eyed._

_Veronica winced as Betty lightly touched the spot, but twisted it into a smile. How could she not soften at Betty’s regretful mug, already mentally berating herself for her misstep._

_“Easy, Betts, it’s okay. I’m okay,” Veronica pacified her, “I don’t mind. Like I said, you don’t know everything, one being that I like it a little rough, sometimes.”_

_Sheepish, Betty looked up through her lashes and mumbled, “Really?”_

_Veronica’s heart exploded, and christ, could she be any more of a sucker? Blondes. It was always the heart-as-gold-as-their-mane blondes. What’s more, Spence had given her a thing for pleated skirts and knee socks, too. But that’s a conversation for a later date._  

_Veronica looked down at the fist she knew too well. She wrapped her fingers around it as Betty’s hand, prying it open so she could brush her fingertips over crescent scabs. Betty hung her head like a scolded child, but Veronica nestled her hand in the crook of her neck, cradling her jawline._

_“Yeah, really,” she confirmed. “Just… how about we don’t get too carried away in here when someone could walk in at any second?”_

_Betty nodded against Veronica's palm and smiled gratefully. She leaned in to press a sweet kiss to Veronica’s lips and she didn’t bother quelling her sigh._

_Sure, she was a far cry from the stoic queen that ruled the Madison Avenue with a flick of her wrist. Gone was the icy glare, the sharp tongue, the clack of her Manolos on marble floors, and oh, if her minions could see her now._

_Veronica couldn’t give less of a shit, though, because where were they? Not here. Betty was here, and Betty adored her despite the emotional wreckage she’d left in her wake back in New York._

_Hand in hand, they strolled towards the door._

_“So, when you say rough…,” Betty mused, doling a wickedly curious look in Veronica direction._

_She chuckled, and narrowed her eyes as she said, “It’s more of a show you than tell you kind of thing.”_

_Betty clearly hadn’t been expecting that and her whole face flushed crimson. If Betty wanted to play power struggle, Veronica was game. She’ll take this as her first flinch._

_Betty: 2_

_Veronica: 1_

 

 

iii. 

 

“This was all I could find,” Betty announced from the doorway of the upstairs bathroom. The jug of distilled white vinegar sloshed noisily as it hung from her outstretched hand.

Veronica regarded it and stated, “That’ll work, probably. And the dish soap?”

Betty presented it from her other hand. At Veronica’s curt nod, she moved all the way inside and closed the door quietly behind her. It wasn’t exactly tense in that decent sized bathroom, but it wasn’t cheery either. Veronica was still in a state of moral and emotional flux, apropos the blood staining her hands brown and the dead body out in the world somewhere.

For now, Veronica threw herself into the task at hand. Soak the shirt in vinegar. Wring it out. Let sit for five minutes. Following the veins of wrinkles along the sleeves, she mused that maybe by the time the shirt was done, and she’d inhaled enough fumes from the vinegar, she’ll have an epiphany and know what to feel.

“How do you know it’ll work?”

Veronica was plucked from her reverie by Betty’s inquiry. She paused from her ministrations to regard the girl, perched on the toilet lid. Calm, just so calm. It was driving Veronica nuts. Maybe it’s just shock. Betty isn’t known for handling trauma well. 

“I don’t, really. I just remember reading about it somewhere, or maybe it was a crime show. Vinegar and dish soap is just what I remember,” she answered.

Betty nodded with a close lipped smile, adding, “Lucky me, huh?”

Betty’s startling lucidity had her swallow back a lump. Of trepidation or concern, she couldn’t discern, but something was off. Besides the fact that someone was dead now where they had been alive mere hours ago.

She had to stop thinking about that.

“Yeah, lucky you,” Veronica echoed.

Betty fell back into her complacent silence, and this was about all Veronica could take. She’d been patient and generous with her benefit of the doubt, but if she didn’t get some sort of explanation soon her compassion would give way to her panic.

“Can you tell me what happened, B?”

Betty didn’t look up, but she frowned as she picked at her nails, so at least she heard her. Three drips from the tub faucet before she tried again.

“Do we need to call someone? The police?”

Drip. Drip.

“Betty, you have to-”

“I just stood there,” Betty said, with a light tremor to her voice. “I didn’t know what to do, but she kept hitting him again and again and again. It went everywhere... It got all over me and I didn’t move.”

“Who?” Veronica prodded softly. Betty still wouldn’t look at her.

“She saved me, though. She saved me,” Betty insisted, shaking her head as if to she was arguing with herself. She trailed off, muttering the same phrase until Veronica laid her hand on Betty’s knee.

“Who, Betty?”

Betty lifted her head to finally look Veronica in the eye. Her expression was a mess that twisted up her features and she almost looked pained.

“Polly!” she whispered, urgent and eyes alight with wonder.

Veronica froze, hand steadying herself on Betty’s knee. Silence engulfed them with only the drip, drip, drip, of the faucet keeping time. She swallowed that lump again, but this time very certain as to why.

 

\---

 

_“These were all I could find,” Veronica stated, presenting Betty with a bouquet of flouncy tulips and a thousand-watt smile._

_Tulips because there were no peonies or ranunculus in this godforsaken town. The old Veronica probably would have pitched a fit, but to be fair, the old Veronica also would have never been buying flowers for someone else in the first place._

_Anyway, she supposed tulips would do for Betty. Like her, they stood tall and statuesque. Pink, of course. Soft on the outside with a dark center that people say symbolized a heart darkened by the heat of passion._

_Betty is nothing if not passionate._

_“Ronnie, they’re… this is…,” Betty stuttered, flummoxed by not only the flowers, but the entire the scene before her. A table set for two with candles flickering in the riverside breeze. String lights twinkling through the leaves of the nearby trees. The sun just setting across the bank. The whole nine yards._  

_Veronica, in a tight black dress, trying her very hardest not to beam at Betty’s blushing grin. Truth be told, it was a little over the top for even Veronica. What started as a candlelit dinner in the apartment quickly snowballed into this extravagant affair. Nevertheless, her goal had been to surprise her girlfriend on their three month anniversary, so she mentally ticked that box with a neat, crisp checkmark._

_Contrary to certain provincial rumors, Betty was the first girl, or boy rather, that she had ever felt the itch to dote upon. So, she found herself compensating for lost time a little. Maybe, a lot._

_Betty still was still gaping like a fish. A cute fish._

_“Say something, please? I know it’s a little… much,” Veronica said meekly, worrying her lip._

_“Sorry, it’s just… I’m just so… I’m…”_

_“Hungry, I hope?”_

_Betty laughed, and Veronica’s grin reached her ears._

_“Yes,” Betty conceded to trying to string words together. She let Veronica lead her by the hand to the table, sitting down in the chair her girlfriend pulled out for her._

_It was the most perfect evening, as if the universe demanded it. The sinking sun gave way to a backdrop of stars, without a cloud in the sky. The pasta was a hit, with Betty lamenting the deprived life she’d been leading before tasting guanciale. As was the dessert, a strawberry trifle. Veronica most certainly did not have the patience for extravagant baking, but she’d be damned if she didn’t give Betty some sort of strawberry confection. It also hadn’t been difficult to pick that out as her favorite dessert flavor. The girl practically bled strawberry milkshakes with her rarely missed weekly quota from Pop’s._

_Speaking of the girl, Veronica hardly could concentrate on eating with Betty sitting there so unassumingly prepossessing. Eyes catching the candlelight, stealing the air out of Veronica’s lungs with every peal of laughter. It was the strangest thing, how she’d always light up and soften at the same time with each compliment Veronica laid at her feet. The bashful smile that she got in return warmed her whole body, like she’d been doused in sunbeams. Tonight was no different, except tonight Betty was all hers._  

_Well, Betty was never entirely hers. She could only dispel the pitfalls of her upbringing to an extent, and sharing was still something she was working on. As the conversation shifted to Betty’s Nancy Drew adventures with Jughead Hardy boy, she barely contained her chagrin._

_“Oh, relax. Don’t get like that. We’re just…”_

_“Looking for a guy who murders teenagers? Yeah, that doesn’t exactly relax me,” Veronica panned._

_“So, that’s the only part that bothers you?” Betty poked the sleeping dragon._

_Veronica took a long sip from her drink before admitting, “Jughead is a close second.”_

_What? Working on it implied that she was still allowed to have possessive lapses._

_Betty shook her head, smiling adoringly at Veronica. It’s a look that could get Veronica to kill for her._

_“I know you’re going to be jealous no matter what I say,” Betty offered, “but I’m not with Jughead celebrating our 3 months, am I? I’m here, with you, still impressed that you pulled all of this off.”_  

_She was right. It did little to mollify the green monster, but it did make Veronica smile in spite of herself. When Betty looked at her like that, sometimes she believed that maybe she really could be good. The kind of good that Veronica had relegated to Abuela’s cookies and movies with talking forest creatures. The kind that didn’t exist anymore until it stared up at her from that comically red booth at Pops that first night, all fresh daisies and dew drops eyes and Anne of Green Gables. Real, warm to the touch, and preserved like a pressed flower in this shabby strip of civilization. The Betty kind of good._

_She stretched across the table just enough to lay her hand atop Betty’s, to reaffirm that she was, in fact, real._

_Betty held it gently, and tugged Veronica forward, mumbling, “C’mere.” The other hand came up to Veronica’s cheek as she kissed her. She let herself fall into those strawberry lips, ignoring the jab of the table edge under her ribs._

_“Hey, dykes!”_

  _That she couldn’t ignore. They both whipped their heads around to the source of the slur, finding a pair of boys making crude gestures from the opposing riverbank. It was too dark to make out their faces, but there was no mistaking their intentions._  

_“Come over here and let a man show you how it’s done!” bellowed the other one._

_Betty’s grip tightened painfully around her hand._

_“Ow, Betty, you’re…”_

_But Betty was already on her feet and trudging towards the river’s edge. She scooped up an armful of stones and began hurling them across the water with startling heft and accuracy._

_“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that!” she yelled, splashing into the water after a particularly aggressive lob. Veronica would be impressed if it weren’t for her rage stricken face, beaming each rock harder and harder at the retreating boys. Gone were the soft smiles and sunbeams, squashed by gritted teeth and hard eyes._

_It wasn’t until a large stone made audible contact with the back of one of the boys that Veronica finally surged forward to intervene._

_“Betty, stop!” she cried, tugging Betty’s reared up arm backwards. They both lost their balance in the water, scrambling to stay upright as Betty’s remaining projectiles plopped in the shallow tide. Breathing heavily, she held balled up fists against Veronica’s chest as her brow wrinkled with guilt._

_“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt them, I just didn’t want them to ruin this night. You worked so hard and…,” she tried to explain, but Veronica ran her hand down the back of Betty’s hair. The ends fluffed in her palm, blunt but perfectly maintained._

_“It’s okay,” she assures her. “They were creeps who deserved it, and it’s not ruined for me. Is it ruined for you?”_

_Betty studies her for a moment before shaking her head, always skeptical of the veracity of Veronica’s forgiveness. One of the many heartbreaking habits she could thank a one Mrs. Cooper for bestowing lovingly upon her daughter. Veronica eased Betty’s fists open to make room for her fingers in the gaps instead. She felt the wetness of open wounds, but she smiled up at Betty nonetheless._

_“I nailed that one guy pretty good, didn’t I?” Betty boasted, albeit timidly. Sunbeams again. Right where she left them. She’d deal with the ominous sense of dread another day._

_“Sure did, girl,” Veronica lauded her. “Betty Cooper, my hero.”_

  

 

iv.

 

“Listen to me, Betty,” Veronica spoke to her, low and even toned.

“No, no, no, okay, I know it sounds crazy,” Betty tried to reason, but nothing reasonable ever followed ‘I know it sounds crazy.’

Still, Betty had Veronica’s hand in a vice grip, holding it in place as she carried on.

“She was there!” Betty exclaimed, “I know what I saw. She must have followed me or something because she knew I was in trouble and she saved me! He was going to kill me, but she _saved_ me!”

There were very few instances in Veronica’s life that rendered her speechless. Watching Betty’s manic gestures and erratic blown out pupils, she was completely at a loss for what to say. It would be one thing if this whole episode had come out of the blue. Then maybe she’d have some cause to believe her or forgive her. Despite Veronica’s chronic denial, things had been slowly crumbling for quite some time. Betty had been crumbling. It’d been all Veronica could do to try and catch the bits and pieces as they fell, holding them in place to keep Betty together.

This piece, however, she couldn’t put back.

But, oh, the way Betty was looking at her, concern on her lips and confusion on her brow. She must have started crying because thumbs were wiping wet splotches from her cheeks. Betty, beautiful sweet Betty, had no idea, and how would Veronica even begin to tell her? What would happen if she did? She knows Betty would never hurt her, not like that. She was just so far out of her depths here, and Betty kept swiping under her eyes and god, she was only seventeen for fucks sake.

“Jesus, Betty,” she just about sobbed.

Veronica couldn’t help the selfish drive to do anything to keep her. Yet, reality was staring her in the face. Quite literally. Betty was trying to soothe her with her calloused red stained hands, but Veronica wasn’t sure how much of her was left in there. The nagging fear that if it had gotten this far, Betty was already lost.

Drowning in her pale green gaze, Veronica barely registered the echo of sirens pulling up to the curb outside. Not the doorbell, the heavy footfalls of Betty’s parents on the landing, down the stairs, and the scuffle of loud voices and rubber soled boots on hardwood. It was Betty’s firm grip on her forearms that got her to her feet, making a break for the glowing pink sanctuary of her bedroom at the end of the hall.

 

\---

 

_“Just listen to me, V”_

_Veronica let her head flop back onto the pink bedspread, visibly annoyed. Betty didn’t even try to look apologetic, and that was even more annoying. She’d had gotten Veronica’s shirt off and half of her bra, for crying out loud. They had to talk about this now?_

_That part she may have voiced out loud._

_Betty’s head cocked to the side in that slightly condescending, but otherwise affectionate way. The smirk she added helped._  

_“Yeah, we do, because it’s been bugging me, and I finally got you alone,” Betty explained._

_“Elizabeth Cooper, did you seduce me into your bedroom with the promise of sexual favors to get me to conspire with you?” Veronica exclaimed, with a hand held mockingly offended to her chest.  “The old me would have been impressed. New me still kind of is.”_

_“Not conspire, I just need to tell you about new developments in my murder investigation,” Betty said, drawing back from their compromising position to rest on her knees. It still sent a chill down Veronica’s spine how casually people in this town talked about the torture and subsequent murder of a teenage boy. Betty, in particular, spoke with an unsettling amount of aloofness, but Veronica just mentally stuffed that into her beloved box of repressions._

_There were more pressing unpleasantries, like the immediate loss of Betty’s warm body atop her scantily clad one. Betty had already migrated to the end of the bed, where she perched cross legged and reached down to pull her notebook from her backpack. Veronica knew well and good that when Betty got a whiff of a new lead, there was no prying her nose from the ground._

_Still, there was no harm in trying. She pushed herself to sit upright, but leaned forward onto her arm in a way that she knew would snare Betty’s attention._

_“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Veronica teased her, dropping her shoulder so the only remaining bra strap slid down her arm._

_Betty looked up from her notebook with her words dying on her tongue as she took her in. It was working, that much Veronica was sure of. Betty’s eyes roamed her neck and her collarbone, the slopes of her shoulders. Her jaw hung loose._

_“I…” she mumbled, but got no further._

_Time to take it up a notch. She reached behind her back to deftly undo the clasp. Betty’s eyes actually widened as her bra fell into her lap. Licking her lips hungrily, Betty shifted ever so slightly towards her now half naked girlfriend._

_“Are you sure it can’t wait?” Veronica purred, dragging her finger casually down the valley of her chest._

_It was a cheap shot, sure, but the near lecherous look on Betty’s face made it all worth it. In a heartbeat, Betty had pulled her astride her legs, one hand raking up her thigh and the other snaking up her back. Her lips glossed over everywhere her hands weren’t; traversing her chest and shoulders and marking their territory on her neck. That one garnered a breathy hum of appreciation from the recipient. Betty was a studious girlfriend, and it wasn’t long before she’d mapped all of Veronica’s weak spots._  

_Victory was sweet, and Veronica relished it as she melted in Betty’s hands, rolling her hips lazily into Betty’s lap._

_“Mmm, V, I really do want to tell you about this,” Betty mumbled into Veronica’s skin. “It’s about Mr. Wescott.”_

_Defeat never came gracefully for Veronica, but rather in the form of a dramatic slump and a pout. She made to climb off of Betty, but was held in place by strong hands. Full disclosure, not all of Veronica’s weak points were parts of her_ own _body._

_“I can still talk to you about it like this,” Betty coaxed her. She drummed her fingertips along Veronica’s thighs, but Veronica wasn’t going to let her have everything._

_“No no no, Betts. I’m a strong believer in separation of church and state,” she deflected, pushing Betty’s hands aside so she could return to lounging against the pillows. Once settled, she gestured suggestively towards herself while adding, “And this body is strictly for worship.”_

_“Fair enough,” Betty agreed._

_Moments like this Veronica really wished Betty hadn’t been bred so Type-A, with not a single article of clothing casually lying on the floor for her to pilfer. She settled for hugging one of her pillows against her exposed chest instead._  

_“Alright, let’s hear it, Joyce Carol Oates.”_

_Betty hit her with an unamused glare before clearing her throat to begin. Veronica tried to be a serious, supportive girlfriend and all that, but she was only human. All she could do was hug the pillow tighter to quell the urge to squeal how cute Betty was when she got all detective-y. She wasn’t proud of it, but didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding it._

_“...he was looking at me weirdly the other day…”_

_“Wait, who, Mr. Wescott? Doesn’t he teach English or something?” Veronica interjected._

_“No, he teaches History. I said that already. Were you even listening?” Betty chastised her._

_“Yes.”_

_That was a lie, and Betty’s arched eyebrow knew it._

_“Okay, sort of.”_

_Betty let it slide, and elaborated, “Like I said, Polly always talked about how creepy Mr. Wescott was towards her, and the other day when I turned around at my locker, I saw him staring at me. I’m not even in his class! Super creepy.”_

_“Why was it creepy? Did he do something?” Veronica asked, with a protective edge to her voice that was definitely knew._

_Betty faltered for a second, and frowned before answering, “Well, no, he didn’t_ do _anything, but I was creeped out, for sure. Also, Polly used to bring him up every now and then for how he would stare at her in class. Shift weirdly in his seat and stuff, you know?”_

_“So he’s a creepy guy. It doesn’t exactly make him a murderer,” Veronica pointed out. It was clearly not the conclusion Betty was looking for. She frowned from her end of the bed, shaking her head and Veronica felt a little guilty for bursting her bubble._

_“Still, I think he might have something to do with it,” Betty grumbled._

_Veronica pushed herself forward and brushed a blonde tendril behind Betty’s ear, which seemed to soften her up a smidge._

_“How about for now, until you’re sure, you leave the sleuthing around Mr. Wescott to Kevin’s dad, okay?” Veronica proposed._

_Betty thumbed mindlessly through her notebook and shrugged. Petulance was not a good look on her, and Veronica won’t have it. There were a few more moves left in her arsenal she could employ to save one of their rare afternoons where neither Cooper parent was due home._

_“Besides,” Veronica added, batting her dark doe eyes. She walked her fingertips down Betty’s arm, guiding Betty’s hand across the comforter to climb up Veronica’s bare thigh. “You have a pretty long to-do list.”_  

_Her eyes kept Betty enraptured as she pulled her hand higher and higher. Freeing Betty’s hand at the apex, Veronica felt those sensibly groomed nails dig into her skin. They clawed at the soft, pliable flesh they found there, with Betty licking her lips just lewd enough to make Veronica blush. Betty had edged close enough for Veronica feel her shallow breaths on her lips._

_There, just below the surface of those placid green eyes was the tempest, raging for release. Capable of consuming not only Betty but taking Veronica down with it. It seemed like each time Betty touched her, it grew more restless. The better half of her brain clanged with alarm bells, but the other half was more concerned with the places Betty’s hands pressed into roughly._

_“Are you supposedly at the top of this to-do list?” Betty murmured. Her hand flexed along the inside of Veronica’s thigh and she couldn’t keep the gasp at bay._

_“I damn well better be,” she uttered, before throwing her arms around Betty’s neck and pulling Betty with her back into the pillows._

 

 

v. 

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay Betts. Just breathe.”

Betty heaved horrible, wheezing breaths that only grew more shallow with each intake of air. She was also pacing, which made Veronica dizzy and nervous like she’d never been before in her life, even when her father was carted off in an NYPD cruiser. This was worse because this time, she was on the other side of the fence. She understood what had happened, what was going to happen. She wished more than anything to be the confused and helpless girl on the steps of the Dakota from a year ago.

“They’re here for me,” Betty muttered, darting across the room to turn the lock on the door. She spun around and stared wildly at Veronica like a caged animal, the wheels starting to turn in Betty’s wide eyes. The meticulous maze of self deception was collapsing in on itself and  this whole situation was unraveling. Soon, it would be just Veronica trapped in this room with whatever version of Betty that chose to emerge.

Veronica softly called to her, “B, I need you to…”

“No! No, I won’t… I didn’t…” Betty cried, her voice shaking. Veronica took careful steps towards her girlfriend, hands held up and outstretched, fingers splayed.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she cooed as she reached her. Although reluctant, Betty let Veronica touch her to start. “Baby, it’s just me.”

Veronica’s light touch slowly moved up and down her arms, massaging the tension out of Betty’s muscles. She was able to get her breathing down from hysterical to slightly anxious, but the feral look in her eye held steady. Seconds were slipping away from them before the agitated voices migrated up the stairs and made quick work of Betty’s feeble lock.

“Betty, I need you to try really hard to remember what happened tonight, okay? What really happened,” Veronica implored. She didn’t want to do it this way, to rip Betty violently from her diegetic version of reality that shielded her from a truth too grim to bear. To be fair, there weren’t exactly a ton of options on the table. It was the lesser of two near indiscernible evils, here.

“I already told you…”

“Betty, just try, please?”

“Mr. Wescott is dead.”

“Who killed him?”

“Polly did, but she did it to save me!”

“No, Betty, she didn’t.”

Betty recoiled, and argued, “Yes she did, you weren’t even… why do people keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That Polly didn’t do this, or didn’t do that. Jughead and Archie and everyone, they pretend she doesn’t exist. They never ask about her or notice that my parents sent her away. They act like they’ve never met her, which is impossible…”

“Is it, Betts?”

“Yes, it is… what are…you’re not making any sense, V.”

She wasn’t making any progress beating around the bush like this. The cacophony of voices downstairs was growing louder and more urgent.

“Betty, listen to me,” Veronica spoke slowly and purposefully. “Polly isn’t in any photos…”

“I have pictures of her, I just can’t find them,” Betty asserted, shaky and unsure of her own words.

“...nobody remembers ever seeing her at school or your house…”

“That’s impossible, Archie and Jughead have been here dozens of times!"

“...you’re the only one who has ever seen her…”

“NO!”

The snarl Veronica was prepared for, but it was the shove that had her reeling backwards. Both of them stood rigid with shock at what had transpired, and while this was one of Veronica’s worst fears, the look on Betty’s face indicated that it was one of hers too. Seeing her girlfriend so fractured propelled Veronica to cosset her, despite the serious line that had just been crossed. 

“Betty, try to think about what happened tonight. What really happened,” Veronica begged her to understand. She wrapped her arms around Betty’s middle and held her close so she couldn’t avoid her anymore.

“No,” she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head.

“Just try, okay? Really try to remember.”

“No, you aren’t... no, no, no…”

“Please,” Veronica pleaded, her own voice cracking with desperation. “I need you to remember, Betty.”

With the first bang on the door, Veronica knew time was up.

 

\---

 

_“Hey, hey, it’s okay Betts. Just breathe.”_

_Veronica sat upright against her headboard with Betty, despite her height advantage, curled up against her chest. Another week, another tiff with Mama Cooper. As much as Veronica abhorred the serial nature of it, there was little she could do to stop it and Betty was getting better at rolling with the punches._

_Sometimes, when Mrs. Cooper casually perused Betty’s room just to dole out some slights, Betty had her in the very room with her. It took every cell in Veronica’s body to keep her from spouting churlish remarks right back at the woman. She’d gently squeeze Betty’s thigh or dance her fingertips across the red crescents on Betty’s palm. Those were the easy weeks._

_This was one of the hard weeks. Betty texting her way later than what Veronica knew to be her regimented bedtime. Driving over in her pajamas and seeking refuge against the soft warmth of Veronica’s chest. Tears already falling before Veronica could get an arm around her._

_She already knew the gist of what happened, so she didn’t ask. If there were any singular details about his particular episode, Betty would tell her soon enough._

_As if on queue, Betty’s hiccups and gulps of air began to subside and make way for an attempt at words._

_“Th-they won’t tell me where Polly is,” she said, through her staccato breathing._

_Veronica tried not to stiffen at the mention of the long lost Cooper sibling, and she hoped she was successful. Several cryptic conversations with Alice gave her the impression that Polly was a point of volatile contention amongst the Coopers. She figured it was best to let Betty navigate this conversation, so she held her tongue and continued to rub circles in support._  

_“I’m scared something horrible has happened to her,” Betty continued. Veronica’s hold on her tightened, but it only seemed to make Betty whimper louder. “Like what happened to Jason…”_

_“No, Betty, you can’t think like that. I’m sure that’s not what happened,” Veronica countered, trying to assuage her fears. “Whatever did happen, your parents are just doing what they think is best for her. They’d never let her get hurt.”_

_Betty shook her head as she sat up to be square with Veronica, face stricken with concern. Without thought, Veronica reached out to cup her cheek and thumb the worry lines away._

_“This is different, V,” Betty spoke gravely. “I can’t reach her at all. I can’t find a phone number or an address. I can’t find any trace of her in the house. None of her things or clothes or anything.”_

_“Well, what about family photos or home movies? Maybe we can show them to people in town and ask if they’ve seen her,” Veronica suggested._

_“Somehow they’ve gotten rid of those too,” Betty replied, growing more frantic. “I don’t know how, but even group photos… she’s just gone. Maybe Photoshop or something? Who knows, but it’s… it’s like she never existed.”_

_Veronica combed her fingers through Betty’s hair lovingly, drawing her back into her arms and shutting down the ridiculous notion. Of course Betty’s sister existed. Sure Veronica had never met her. She’d never seen a photo of her. The only proof of her existence were vague second and third person accounts and a name scrawled in that vile bedpost notch book. It didn’t help that the only other person who had apparently known Polly was found dead at the bottom of a river._

_It was a dark thought, but the closest Veronica had ever come to meeting her was that night Betty donned that black wig and tried to drown that lowlife. But that was just a fluke. A coping mechanism for dealing with the absence of her sister. A chill ran down Veronica’s spine, but she shook it off. She must have left a window open somewhere._

 

 

vi. 

 

“This can’t be real,” Betty groaned.

The knocking only grew heavier and more insistent with each passing second. The voices on the other side bellowing and Betty digging her fist into her skull.

“Betty, stop that, just…”

“This isn’t real, is it? No, you’re not here. I-I’m by myself…” she stammered, pounding her fist methodically into her temples. Veronica tried to grab hold of her wrists, but Betty had always been curiously strong. She wrenched free of her girlfriend’s grip, hardly noticing. It didn’t stop Veronica from trying again and again.

“Betty, baby please, don’t go there, okay?”

“Open the door! This is the Police!”

“Not real. They’re not real. I’m asleep. I’m all alone…”

“I’m real, Betty! I’m here, I’m real!” Veronica cried, pressing Betty’s hands to her cheeks.

“No, no, I didn’t… It’s not real. It’s Polly…”

“Elizabeth, open the door!”

“Stay with me, Betty! It’s going to be okay!”

“Not here… not real…”

“We’re going to open the door!" 

“Betty please! Stay with me!”

But Betty was gone. Her eyes were glossy and grey, and they had picked the feeble lock and burst into the room, a blurred mob of starched tan uniforms and strong arms grabbing. Somewhere in the mix was the pink bathrobe of Mrs. Cooper, still as stone. 

“Get off of me! Betty! It’s okay, I’m here!” Veronica screamed as faceless men curled their arms around her shoulders and peeled her away from Betty. She did everything she could to hold on, but Betty wasn’t looking at her anymore. She stared through her, gone inside her head, and Veronica had to let her go. So, she released her hold, and the police released her in turn. Betty hardly noticed, but her eyes darted around at the commotion, flinching and cowering like a skittish cat. Oh, Betty, her sweet, good Betty.

“You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney,” the policeman spouted robotically. They pulled a dazed Betty’s hands behind her back and snapped a pair of fresh cuffs onto her.

“Listen, she’s sick, okay?” Veronica entreated, her voice thin and brittle. “She didn’t know what she was doing. You can’t take her, please!”

An unoccupied officer turned to her and asked gruffly, “Are you making an official statement as an accomplice?”

“I… no, I’m just…” Veronica tried to plead her case, but he took a heavy footed step towards her and she faltered.

“Then I suggest you stay quiet, young lady, and save it for the judge,” he said harshly, before turning on his heel and motioning for them to take Betty away.

For a split second, Veronica caught Betty’s eye. As the officers shoved her forward, she saw the recognition igniting. Her Betty was still in there.

“Ronnie?” she called out, and Veronica felt a knife sink into her heart. “Ronnie! Tell them the truth! Don’t let them take, me, please! Tell them about Polly!”

Wilted in defeat, there was nothing else Veronica could do but stand, rooted to that patch of pink carpet, watching them forcibly remove Betty from her own room. All the while, Betty screamed for Veronica and no one else, her nickname echoing down the staircase. She felt nothing but numbness. For a moment she entertained the thought that Betty was right, and none of this was real after all. 

As the final officer cleared the doorway, however, she saw clearly the Coopers standing in the shadow of the hallway. Both of them displaying varying degrees of devastation, but beneath a cold, pointed glare. They blamed her, that she was certain of, if not for the whole incident, at least for her part in it. For that, they may not be entirely out of line, but there was no mistaking whose shoulders the lion’s share of the blame landed on.

Their icy standoff lasted for an eternity before Mrs. Cooper turned with a huff to hurry down the stairs, followed by her husband. Veronica waited until she could hear the slam of the front door, the rev of their engine and their car peel off down the street to the station.

The trademark quiet of the small town street settled back into the house again, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred beyond the ruffling of a few feathers. Only in the silence did the numbness finally give way to the deluge of grief and guilt, and Veronica crumbled.

 

\---

 

_“This can’t be real,” Betty breathed_

_“There’s one way to find out,” Veronica quipped._

_She lifted Betty’s hand from where it held her up, hovering over Veronica at a vexingly respectful distance, and placed it on one of the lacy cups of her bra._  

_Black lace, with green silk underneath and a scandalous degree of push-up that looked even more delicious lying down._

_Betty certainly short circuited upon contact and her hand was still for roughly ten seconds before she showed any signs of life. Gently, she moved her hand along the side of the bra, thumbing the lace detailing not nearly hard enough for Veronica to get anything out of it. For now, she’d take the look of complete awe on her girlfriend’s face. Wide green eyes in the dark of Veronica’s bedroom._

_“Yep, very real,” Betty assessed, breathless despite having not moved for five minutes._

_“Anything else?” Veronica egged her on. She arched her back invitingly, and Betty took it. This time of her own accord, Betty dragged her hand down, forging a path along the underside of the bra, into the valley of her waist and over the peak of her hips. She slowed down to appreciate the matching garter belt and green and black lace underwear, and came to a stop along the top of a thigh high stocking._

_“You look incredible,” Betty uttered, “Incredibly beautiful. Hot and beautiful and sexy and… other words that escape me right now.”_

_Veronica giggled at how a mere set of lingerie can make Betty so flustered. She was no stranger to being desired, but this was so much more than just that. Because for the blonde girl licking her lips as she drank in the sight before her, Veronica had very strong feelings of the Nicholas Sparks variety._

_“So, what are you going to do about it?” Veronica baited her. She ghosted her fingertips up Betty’s bicep, and gave her an innocent bat of the eyes._

_“I… I don’t know where to start…” Betty admitted._

_Veronica knew how to translate. It was no secret that Veronica was Betty’s first for most things done horizontally; this being the final turn round third base headed straight for home plate. Veronica would do anything to make it as perfect as a first time could be, hence the lacy getup._

_“Start with whatever you want,” Veronica coaxed her, smiling softly. “Whatever comes to mind.” She gave herself the Vanna White treatment, and Betty laughed nervously before nodding. She ran her hands up Veronica’s stomach, hypnotized by the sensation._

_“I want to kiss every part of you that I can see,” Betty muttered, rushed and suddenly ravenous for Veronica’s body all decked out like a Christmas present._

_Veronica giggled at her eagerness and told her, “Whatever you want, Betts.”_

_“Not Betty,” she uttered, dark eyes snapping up to address Veronica. “Polly.”_

_Veronica’s smile faded as she cocked her head to the side in confusion. Sure, Betty possessed a slightly more mercurial temperament than one would expect, from the bookish exterior, but something wasn’t right. Betty’s brow was bent in a way that she’d never seen before. It was almost sinister. She gripped Veronica’s skin just a little too roughly, and tugged her so she slid off the pillow and laid flat on the sheets beneath her._  

_“Betty is too meek to go after what she wants, but not me,” Betty said smoothly, in the most un-Betty way possible. Dark forest green eyes bore into her, dark eyes she had seen once before._

_Oh._ Oh.

_No wig or revenge plot this time, but there was no mistaking it._

_Shit, shit, shit._

_“Betty, come back,” Veronica commanded._

_“Betty went away for a while, but don’t worry. I’ll take much better care of you, V,” not-Betty cooed._

_“No, give me back Betty, Polly,” Veronica ordered, meeting her with a venomous stare and gripping the arms of that held her still._

_“Shut up!” Polly growled._

_“Let Betty go!” Veronica cried, digging her nails into the flesh of her biceps._

_Polly gritted her teeth and nearly lunged forward, but she froze. She was suspended above Veronica who laid silent and watching. Breathing labored. Slowly, she saw with her own eyes Betty return to her. The lines in her forehead smoothed, her scowl softened, and a cloud of malice lifted from her gaze._

_“Betty?” Veronica tried._

_“Yeah? Are you okay?”_

_She stared down at what was probably a thousand different emotions flitting across Veronica's features. Releasing her hold on Betty’s arm, she reached up for her cheek. The skin was just as soft as she knew it to be, crinkling with a smile against her palm as Betty leaned into it._

_“Are you sure you still want to do this, V?”_

_It was just Betty, now. Her Betty. Looking at her with all the enveloping warmth of a wool blanket wrapped around her before a crackling fireplace. Everything was going to be okay. She could do this._

_Nodding, Veronica slid her hand down to lightly hold her chin between her knuckles and her thumb. For Betty, she would make this as perfect as she could. Polly couldn’t hurt her, not while Veronica was here._

_“One hundred percent, B, but can you start here?” she assured her, as she pulled her down into a breathless kiss. Just to be sure, one more time. Soft, hungry lips melted against her mouth. This could only be her Betty. She knew these lips, their ebbs and flows, even in her sleep. Opening her mouth, she relaxed into them, coiling her arms around Betty’s neck._

_She didn’t have them for long, though. They were quick to find her neck and press lingering, full mouth kisses to, true to her word, every part of Veronica that she could see. The one she left in the dip in her hips drew a particularly loud gasp from Veronica. She couldn’t see it, but she felt the smirk in against her skin._

_It was one thing to hide the Betty shaped chink in her armor in public or the company of friends. However, in the privacy of her bedroom, Veronica had decided to let herself be an embarrassingly eager, whining mess in Betty’s hands. Well, her body didn’t really give her a choice in the matter, but she pretended anyway._

_And besides, Betty was starved for a drop of agency over her world, more than she knew herself. She could at least give her that._

_She felt a nip at the hollow of her neck, and her fingers clenched in Betty’s hair. This was the girl she remembered. Betty, real Betty, was always tentative at first; lots of hands grazing skin and avoiding particularly sinful areas. Give her five or so minutes of Veronica’s playful fingers and lithe body, though, and she became insatiable. What’s more, Veronica had never been as unabashedly naked before Betty quite like this. It only fanned the fire faster._

_“I want to… can I…,” Betty whispered as her fingertips shyly toyed with the lace along the waistband._

_“Even the playing field a little first, and then I’m all yours,” Veronica bargained. She tugged on a belt loop on Betty’s jeans to clarify. With all the fervor of a fifteen year old boy, Betty had those jeans off, and her shirt as well, just in case, in record time. They both groaned blissfully as Veronica pulled her close for some skin to skin contact. Nothing but a few scraps of silk and lace left, but Veronica had a feeling that Betty liked the thrill of being just on the edge of breaking the rules._  

_Veronica felt Betty’s work worn hand slide down her stomach and halt once again. She looked up at Betty through her lashes to find her eyes on her, limpid and searching. Asking for permission again perhaps, which was so sweet that it made Veronica’s teeth ache, but maybe something else as well. Maybe a smaller, quieter side of Betty was asking if she was okay, if this was okay, and if she was doing the right thing, because somewhere deep down, she knew she couldn’t trust her own mind._

_Veronica wasn’t equipped to answer that. For all the literary quips and witty retorts, she lacked the years of earned wisdom to make these sorts of calls. There was something dark lurking beneath the surface of her girlfriend, and she had no idea what the right thing to do about that was. She did know that Betty cared for her more than anyone in her life had before. If this is what Betty wanted to do to show her that, there couldn’t be anything remotely wrong with it._

_Tenderly tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear, Veronica nodded, suddenly overcome with a wash of nerves. It was so foreign to her that she froze up. The impish glint and her rakish disposition had been wiped clean._

_Just Betty leaning in, soft smile and pink lips. Kissing her, breathing in the gasp from Betty’s fingers diving between her legs. Blushing and consumed completely by a heat that warmed her whole body from her toes to her nose. Instinctively reaching out for Betty’s shoulders and the expanse of her back, burning to be closer, closer, closer. Wanting nothing more than to melt into Betty entirely._

_For the record, she came harder around Betty’s fingers than she ever had before in her whole life. No control over her breathing, her hips, or the noise that came out of her mouth that was nowhere near as sexy as she wanted it to be. It didn’t matter. Betty’s dopey grin full of pride made up for it._  

_They laid side by side, bodies spent and strewn haphazardly, as Betty trailed her knuckle up and down Veronica’s jaw._

_“I’ll love you forever, Veronica Lodge,” she declared to an audience of pillows and tangled sheets and one wide eyed girl._

_With startling clarity, Veronica realized that for all the firsts she had given Betty, at last Betty had given her one in return._

_“I love you, too,” she said right back._

_Betty, mouth falling open slightly and smile reaching her ears, breathed, “Really?”_

_God, looking at that, how could Veronica ever have a doubt in her mind. Nothing she ever discovered could sway her otherwise, not when something this good laid within arms reach._

_“Yeah, really,” Veronica giggled._

_They both fell into a fit of giddiness, shuffling closer and fawning over the exposed skin of the other._

_“Sorry, I just… I still can’t believe us, you, or any of this is real. It feels like a really, really good dream,” Betty admitted._

_“Well, come here,” Veronica ordered, pulling her forward by her waist. “Let me show you how very much awake you are.”_

 

 

vii. 

 

The chill of the steel table was akin to ice on her delicate wrists, but Veronica didn’t have the mental capacity to react to it. In fact, she was grateful that they cranked up the A/C in this place, because she was anxious. Anxiety made her sweat, and the last thing she wanted was for Betty to see her, after all this time, a disheveled, sweaty mess. The guest tag already weighed down her top disproportionately to the left.

She had to keep it together for her. She was the rock. The unwavering constant in Betty’s life, circumstances be damned.

Somewhere a hair-raising buzzer of sorts sounded, and the only other door besides the one she came in from slid open. Like a solemn wedding train of perfectly coordinated grey and taupe, the security guards escorted the inmates in single file.

Residents. Psych ward residents, she mentally corrected herself.

Her breath caught when she spotted the swing of a familiar blonde ponytail. A relief, as she had been worried that they wouldn’t let her have hair ties or something like that. It was a silly thing to worry about, but better she fixate on that than the larger issue at hand.

Nor did she have the time to worry, because as soon as Betty’s butt hit that chair, the visiting clock had started counting down.

Out of a habit that neither days nor months apart could break, they both reached out immediately across the table. Veronica had no more than wrapped her fingers around Betty’s palm before a guard barked at them from his watchful post in the corner.

“No touching!”

They both jerked their hands back, and Betty gazed forlornly at her own. Besides the general overtone of despair, Betty appeared unharmed. Veronica marked that with another sigh of relief.

Still, her eyes drank Betty in for any sign of damage as she asked her, “How are you, Betts?”

She got an insouciant shrug in return, but no eye contact.

“Please look at me. I wore that shade of lipstick that you like, sour cherry?”

Betty peeked out of the corner of her eye, and Veronica caught the quirk of an almost smile. She couldn’t resist, and soon Veronica had a head on view of those green eyes she missed. She told Betty as much, and brought a little color to her pallid cheeks.

“What do they feed you in here?” Veronica asked, trying to keep her voice jaunty and casual.

“Um, nothing too bad. Sandwiches and weird shloppy vegetables sometimes, but it’s not as bad as it is in the movies,” Betty told her.

“Better than my mom’s cooking, probably. The other night she tried to cook Fred dinner to surprise him, and she burnt the chicken so badly, we had to throw the whole roasting pan out with the bird still stuck to it.”

For a moment, Betty laughed and they could have been back in her room, gabbing on her bed after school. Betty was tugged from the temporary escape first as her smile sank into a frown. Her eyes darted around at their surroundings, and her hands went to fidget with the edges of her uniform.

“Hey, it’s okay…” Veronica tried to assuage her, but Betty interrupted her softly.

“I’ve been seeing a lot of doctors.”

Veronica sat in the silence after this proclamation, unsure if there was more to come. There was, Betty taking a breath before each new revelation.  

“They think they know what’s wrong with me, or they have a theory anyway. They’ve proposed Dissociative Personality Disorder as a likely diagnosis. But they want to rule out some other options before they make it official.”

Veronica nodded as she processed the information to the best of her understanding.

“That’s good,” she replied, because there wasn’t anything else she could think of to say. Both of them seemed to need a dose of positivity, anyway. She added for good measure, “Sounds like things are going well, and they’re going to figure out how to make you better.”

Betty’s scoff said otherwise. Wrong answer.

“No they won’t,” she snapped, looking Veronica square in the face with an uncharacteristic bite to her. “If that’s what it is, they already told me that there isn’t any medication that they know of to fix it. I’m just crazy and I belong in here, end of story.”

“Don’t be so flippant, Betty, that’s not true,” she scolded her. Betty didn’t take lightly to it, with a knitted brow and a scowl, but at least Veronica held her attention. She sighed through her nose to gather herself. Time was slipping away from them, and she didn’t want to waste a single one of her precious minutes with Betty squabbling. 

She was the rock.

“Betty,” she tried again, hands clasped on the table, “you’re sick, but there will always be ways to help you. I’m going to find the best doctors or psychiatrists or whatever in the whole country. The best treatments. The best experimental trials, as long as they don’t make you lose your hair, because if they must force you to forgo your pastel pink, you should at least get to keep your barbie blonde.”

There was that ghost of a smile again. Veronica used it to fuel her forward. She inched her hand forward, and Betty let her own fingers crawl across the steel wasteland between them.

“Seriously, though, B. I’m going to get you out of here. I’m going to bring you home. I think my track record proves pretty dependable for moving mountains when it comes to you.”

Without looking down, as to not draw attention to their chronic disregard for the rules, Veronica nudged Betty’s finger with her own. Just a subtle gesture, but the contact seemed to pull a watery smile from her girlfriend. One she would savor. Play on loop in her mind until she could see her again.

“I’ll love you forever, Betty Cooper,” she whispered just loud enough for Betty to hear.

She did. Betty’s chest swelled and the way her eyes started to glow and, god, Veronica wished for the tangerine glow of the streetlights and the silk sheets of her bedroom from that night. One day, very soon, they will have that again. Many nights like it, and afternoons and mornings and she will mumble it it, kiss it across her skin, toss it across the kitchen making breakfast…

“Times up.”

Until then, this was the best Veronica could do. Clandestine touches under fluorescent lighting in fifteen minute intervals of blackmailed time. No sooner had the announcement been made were they lifting Betty from her chair. Veronica stood too, dutifully, but for no reason really, and offered a hopeful smile as they lead Betty away from her.

She could still feel her phantom touch, however small it was and she knew Betty, a grey figure with slumped shoulders and a longing stare, could feel her too.

Maybe they had always been two stars in orbit, aligned for a brief and spectacular moment in their cosmic dance, but never destined to meet. And maybe Betty had nearly swallowed her whole in her supernova, collapsing in on herself until there was only a dense black hole in her place. Maybe she’d narrowly avoided a similar fate.

  
One last swing of her ponytail before the door slid shut. Veronica could only sigh a silent prayer that one day their paths would align again because despite everything, as long as there was a shard of her Betty left to be found, she’ll take her chances with the darkness.

 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> come say hellur 
> 
> to-yonce-and-beyond.tumblr.com


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